


No Vacancy

by Cerise_anouk



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Darcy lewis is a reluctant BAMF, F/F, F/M, Fish out of Water, Friendship is Magic, Gen, Heimdall makes a good Yoda, Ian is Adorkable, Invasion Of The Body Snatchers - Freeform, Jane Foster is a Good Bro, Possession by other worldly being, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Thor Is a Good Bro, Vacation in Asgard, pantsless Erik!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:18:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerise_anouk/pseuds/Cerise_anouk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, it's all Jane's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Follow the Leader

After the dust had settled from the battle with Legolos’ waaaaaaay uglier cousin, and all fingers and toes (and pants) had been accounted for, Jane had seen Thor off with a kiss and a pat on the ass to go do whatever godly space princes did when they weren’t saving their astrophysicist girlfriends from Santa’s angstiest little helpers.

Then she’d promptly informed her merry band of misfits that they were going to Africa. Because;

          a) Her data was hinting at some interesting spacey/portal-y stuff in that direction, and

          b) All the crazy aliens didn’t seem interested in it and she felt like it was time to get the hell outta Dodge. But like, ninety-eight percent the spacey/portal-y stuff.

Erik had predictably not cared, and in fact seemed to be looking forward to the change in scenery (the climate there was _much_ more conducive to pants-less brainstorming), and the whole lack of evil _anything_ bent on using his mad brain skillz for the dark side was like, a _major_ bonus. Ian, lost little science lamb that he _was_ would go where Darcy told him to because Queen D ruled with a righteously manicured fist and he was kind of terrified of her. Jane hadn’t even asked Darcy if she’d made other plans because like, _duh._ (Still, slightly insulting. She could have at least _pretended_ like Darcy had any sort of life outside of managing Jane’s science shenanigans) So Jane had picked up her kingdom, said deuces to London and the northern hemisphere (but not the Stark funding. They said heart felt thank-yous to _that_ ) and relocated to the southern wilds of the Democratic Republic of Congo. Genocidal maniacs beat homicidal Keebler Elves any day. Well, at least five out of seven, so still good.

For the eight months that they were there, they’d spent endless weeks beating their way through the miserably humid bush; following star charts, guides with the brokenest of broken English, the _whispers_ of old tribe stories and the rare jump of the needle on Janes duct tape and double mint held together scanner. By the time they moved on to Tanzania Erik had almost been stoned to death for being a witch –“seriously, still a thing here?”–, Jane had almost traded Ian for a pair of double AA batteries of questionable newness –“ _No_ Jane _!_ He’s the only one who can climb the banana trees _!”_ – and Darcy had been almost married –“twice _,_ Darcy _, twice!_ ”– due to the language barrier. Apparently curves were, like, a _thing_ down there, so she would have like, totally thought about it except there wasn’t even one Starbucks in the whole country and Wifi was nonexistent so it just wasn’t worth it. Plus, like, Ebola.

But it wasn’t all bad. No alien invasions took place, nobody got possessed by weird red misty stuff, nobody cared about a weird white dude with no pants on in the jungle, the African climate agreed with Darcy’s hair, they all had bitchin’ tans, and Thor visited for (Jane judged by the stars) Valentine’s Day, having Heimdall drop him right in the middle of their camp in a convenient jungle clearing Ian had found while up a banana tree. (not that he’d needed Heimdall to find them, all he’d _really_ had to do was follow the trail of  Off cans they’d left across the country. Africa mosquitoes were the size of _cats_ )

It was a flip of a franc that decided they’d take a rickety bush plane –“is that _duct_ _tape?!”–_ instead of the bus, and sheer luck that in the tiny office of the tiny bush airport they were waiting in, that there’d be a tiny TV with satellite. They watched along in silence with the threadbare ground crew as three massive flying ships crashed into the Potomac. _–“Hydra?_ Like for realsies _?_ No freaking way”–.   

Tanzania turned out to be a bust so they hi-ho’d off to Kenya –“I swear to _GOD_ Darcy _,_ if you sing the Circle of Life one _. More. Time._ ”– and, once again, found themselves watching a battle in the sky from the safety of their eco-hotel. Only this time a whole damn city was floating in the air, and instead of long thought dead Evil Organizations, it was crazy sentient robots and Thor was involved. It was like watching the battle of New York all over again only slightly less terrifying because _nothing_ beat flying space slugs from the fifth dimension of hell. Nothing. Jane was tense next to Darcy on the couch. Sitting on the edge of her cushion, she gnawed on the thumbnail of one hand while holding Darcy’s hand in a death grip with the other. Every time she’d catch a glimpse of red cape and blond hair she’d flinch. Darcy externally held it together for Janey’s sake while inside she lost her shit. From his spot on the floor with spindly arms around his knees Ian seemed to have stopped breathing; eyes blown wide and mouth slightly gaping like a beached fish. Even Erik was paying attention as he relaxed in one of the sturdy armchairs, mind totally present for once.

After it ended the news kept up a steady stream of recapped images from the battle and first reports from the ground as they all tried to relax. Jane paced back and forth across the plank wood floor while ranting and flailing her hands about. Erik sat in his same chair muttering equations to himself and Darcy and Ian tried to pretend like everything was ok by playing go fish with the incomplete deck of cards that was in the hut. When the tell-tale sounds of Thor’s arrival finally rumbled through the room Jane bolted out the door, flinging it open to smack against the wall and Darcy sighed as she felt the tension bleed from her shoulders.

Robots, shmo-bots.

After Kenya they once again took their lives into their own hands and traveled by bush plane to the hinky-est air strip Darcy’d ever seen in BFN northern Sudan. Once landed she managed to procure the five camels they needed for their journey through trade. It had only cost them Jane’s hairbrush _–“_ shut up _,_ like _you_ even _use it”–_ three pairs of Erik's pants _–“_ jokes on _you”–_ and Ian’s mp3 player _–“_ dude _,_ it’s a _Zune._ Who even _pretends_ to have had one of those? _”–_

Darcy is officially the God of haggling.  

They follow the Nile like a pack of Bedouin travelers, wrapped in dark fabrics to hide from the sun. It’s the middle of summer, and, to quote Jane, it feels like vacationing in Satan’s ass crack. It’s hotter than hot, like, New Mexico felt like wintering in Aspen in comparison hot. Like so hot Darcy is scared to turn on her iPod hot. Because the last time she tried it, it _self_ - _shut_ - _downed_ on her hot. Like they’re all starting to see the shit _Eric_ sees hot.

So.

Fricking.

_Hot._

But the nights? The nights are beyond words. Stars upon stars upon stars just glittering endlessly on above them. And as she lays on the still warm sand with Jane next to her pointing out constellations and telling the stories her dad had once told her, Darcy can understand why ancient people made them into gods. Instead of finding it terrifying like the majority of the human population just finding out that fantastical beings and that places like Asgard really existed, she finds it comforting knowing that they’re not all alone floating out there in all that vast awesomeness.

Other than some cool hieroglyphics of epic Ancient Alien levels _–“_ dude _,_ joking _-_ not _-_ joking _,_ that totally looks like Loki _._ Erik _,_ back me up buddy _”–_ they find absolutely nothing.

They blame Jane.

The _camels_ blame Jane.

 _Jane_ even blames Jane.

So they say good bye to the camels _–“_ Ian _,_ stop crying _._ I’m sure HRH Christoff VonCamelbottom will be very happy with the nice bandits _” – , –“_ Seriously Janey _,_ we _need_ to work on your people skills _”–_ dig  out the Stark charge card Darcy doesn’t want to even   _know_ where Jane had hidden, and back track to Ethiopia in style.

Their first exploratory readings are so promising that they’re almost ready to forgive Jane for the whole crossing the desert thing. When the guides they hire lead them to some nothing special cave near where all of humanity is supposed to have sprung forth and the readings are off the charts, even the trading Ian for batteries incident is forgotten.  

Later on, when Darcy and Jane reminisce about how awesome the Sudan desert was, and where it all went wrong, they’ll decide on Ethiopia. Specifically the cave. If they had one do-over it would definitely be the moment that they, along with their two moron amigo’s and one oddly skittish guide, made their way into the dank, narrow cavern of doom all in the name of Science!™.

They never stood a chance.


	2. (Fool's) Gold on the Ceiling

Darcy absentmindedly trails the pads of her fingers along the rough limestone wall of the cave as she hums tunelessly to herself. Life was grand. Life was awesome. Life was flipping _amazing._ When they’d walked off the edge of the world two years ago, _totally_ ignoring the ‘here there be dragons’ sign, she’d (like Jane and Erik and Ian) figured this would be a pretty textbook fact-finding trip. Like, literally, the itinerary Jane had had her type up print out and _laminate_ went like this:

-          Land in the DRoC (Democratic Republic of Congo)

-          Explore all anomalous energy readings and/or local folklore indicative of possible Einstein-Rosen Bridge-type existences

-          Get Bitchin’ tans

…Or something like that. She can’t _quite_ remember exactly since she sort of lost it like, three days in to the trip. While they were all hoping to find some never found before space awesomeness that would prove Jane even _more_ right, thus making all those science jerkholes who’d ever called her theories crazy _vomit_ their previously eaten words back up and eat them all _again,_ they’d all pretty much unspokenly agreed that it was kind-of-sort-of _basically_ a vacation funded endlessly by Stark Industries.

Darcy didn’t think it could get anymore win than that.

Of course, it could never just go their way. In fact, other than the tans it’d pretty much been a complete shit show, if you asked her. With a hundred-and-ten percent humidity and giant man eating mosquitoes free of charge. The only good thing about the DRoC had been the bananas and Tanzania wasn’t worth even the stamp in her passport. Seeing all the animals in Kenya had been uber cool up until she had had to pee in the middle of the night and there were a million glowing eyes gleaming in the beam of her flashlight and her pants were around her ankles. It was too soon to even _hint_ at the mention of Sudan. Darcy was _still_ finding sand in places she was pretty sure her gynecologist would find worrisome. _Jane_ had even begun to lose her optimistic glow after that debacle.

Now though, it all seemed worth it, listening to Jane and Erik’s excited Science! chatter as Ian struggles to produce the equipment they kept demanding between sentences from the overly large pack he’s been unlucky  enough to have to carry during the entire expedition.

“Holy- Erik, just _look_ at these readings- Ian! Get me the electro-thermal refraction-“

“We’re really onto something here, Janey! Ian hand me the matter density-“

“We haven’t had readings this good since _New Mexico-“_

“Almost _exactly_ the same type of energy as back then! My god it’s extraordinary! Ian, hold my pants-“

“I can’t _believe_ we wasted so much time in those other-wait, what? ERIK _! Put your pants back on!”_

Yes. Life was indeed grand. With the dulcet sounds of discovery babbling on behind her, Darcy focuses her attention on the unimpressive interior of the cave that lay before her. As far as African caves went, it was as generic as the rest that they’d wondered into in the name of Science!. Like, if someone looked up the definition of 'cave' in the dictionary a pic of this cave would be next to it.

 Craggy limestone made up the irregular shape of domed space and in the dim light she could see the odd pre-Neanderthal drawling decorating its bumpy walls here and there (if she squinted and tilted her head sideways they _sort of_ looked like the Loki looking ones they saw in Sudan). The ceiling is just tall enough that Erik didn’t have to worry about bumping his head on the lower hanging stalactites, but Ian has to occasionally duck here and there. Glancing up into the dark shadows that hid some higher parts of the cave, Darcy _really_ hopes that there wasn’t any bats in this one. That one scene from the Goonies had _really_ scarred her as a kid. _Rabies_.

 As she slowly meanders her way deeper in, the sound of her worn Keds is muffled by the fine layer of dirt that makes up the gently slanting cave floor. It was so fine that it is almost like walking on powdered sugar; with each step she felt the ground slightly give under her foot and she leaves a perfect imprint of her size sixes behind.  

Pausing in her humming to take a breath, she feels the thick, stagnant air flow sluggishly into her lungs through her nose. It was musty, and she could practically taste the minerals in it with each inhale. So far, she’d been lucky and hasn’t found any bones of whatever sorry saps had crawled in here to die alone, like they had in quite a few of the deeper caves they had explored, so that was a plus. She always felt sorry for those dudes. Like, who didn’t at least have one person in the whole world who gave a shit if they wandered off to some random cave to kick the bucket? Apparently a lot of people in Africa, that’s who.

De-pressing.

“-serious Erik. _Everybody._ Darcy, back me up. Darcy? DARCE!”

Spinning on a toe, Darcy continues her slow trek backward, “Right here Boss Lady.”

“What are you doing? Don’t get so far ahead. Why aren’t you taking any readings? It’s pretty dim back there, do you have your flash light?” came Jane’s quick fire questions.

Pausing, Darcy rolls her eyes and reaches for the small flashlight sticking out of the back pocket of her shorts, switching it on and giving it a little shake above her head, “Yeah. Jeez _mom_ -“

And then the ground beneath her opens up and swallows her.

Fucking Africa, man.

 


	3. Rock Bottom

Darcy wakes with a start and a missive fucking headache. She’s lying face down on the stone hard cavern floor with a slightly raised edge of rock digging into her cheek and an arm trapped under her body. Rolling over onto her back she hisses as a sharp pain shoots through her arm.

“ _oooooouch.”_ She moans pathetically. At least her boobs had broken her fall. Go team go!

 “Darcy?! Darcy!” Jane’s shill voice was so _not_ helping the throbbing in her head. Wincing at the sudden bright light shining in her eyes, Darcy blinks rapidly up at the three figures leaning over the edge of the narrow hole. Wow. She’d fallen pretty far.

“Yeah?”

“Ohmygod- Darcy! Are you ok?! Don’t move, the guide went back to the village to get help!”

Darcy would’ve snorted if she wasn’t like eighty percent sure a rib was cracked and the dust floating in the air wasn’t filled with toxic cave death rot. The village- more like six huts and a latrine- was a thirty minute jeep ride one way, shyeah right she’s just gonna lay here and wait for him to get back with reinforcements while she was stuck in Ethiopia’s smelly asshole. Cautiously, she rolls to her side and spots her flash light. Eureka! Reaching for it she cautiously sits up, wincing as her ribs protested the movement.

“I think I’m ok Jane.” She calls up.

“What do you see down there Darcy? The readings are off the charts!” Erik yells back.

“Uh,” carefully rising to her feet she wraps an arm around her midsection and starts scanning the area with her flashlight. Dust mots dance lazily through the beam as she took in the pocket she’d fallen into; it was made of the same limestone as the one above, but this one seemed less natural, more….crafted? The walls were too perfect, too symmetrical, sharing none of the irregular divots and curves that spoke of centuries worth of water and wind wear and tear, “I think it’s another cave?”

“Is there anything down there?”

“I don’t think so. It’s pretty small.” Slowly she traces the light across the walls, as far as she could tell, there was no other way in or out, just the hole she’d fallen through, “There’s nothing on the walls. I’m pretty sure it’s-“

Something is behind her.

The hair on her arms stands up and apprehension streaks in an icy trickle down her spine.

_Ohmygod-_ something is _behind her._

Sweet baby Thor protect her.

Bracing herself, she swallows her heart back down as it tries to crawl up her throat and spins around holding her flash light in front of her like it’s a gun, expecting to see Predator or Freddy Kruger or Alien or the Mummy-

There is nothing.

Darcy blinks. Actually…

”There’s a black puddle?” it even sounds like she’s asking the cave if that’s what she is seeing.

“A black puddle?” Jane yells out.

“Maybe it’s like a really, really small tar pit?”

There was a moment of unintelligible muttering then, “Ok Darce, we’re gonna toss down an empty water bottle, do you think you could get a sample?”

Glancing up at the three shadows she shrugs a shoulder, “Sure. I’m gonna be down here for a while anyways, right?”

“Great. Ian, gimme your water bottle.”

“Huh?!” came his startled yelp.

“Just fork it over. Sheesh, you’re acting like it’s that stupid camel or something. Catch Darcy!”

She doesn’t even try and instead watches it bounce hollowly against the cracked cave bottom then looks up at the shadow she’s pretty sure is Jane,“…Seriously Janey. We _need_ to work on your people skills.”

“What? Why? Whatever, just get the sample.”

Rolling her eyes Darcy grabs the canteen and shuffles her way over to the tar stuff. Kneeling down carefully on the rocky floor she unscrews the cap, and reaches out out towards the puddle with a sigh. Jane’s lucky she’s her Bae. The things she does in support of her friend’s Science! addiction… Darcy’s so into rolling her eyes that she almost doesn’t notice how its shiny black surface sort of swells up the closer she gets to it. Blinking, she pulls her hand back and the surface goes flat. Well color her intrigued. Reaching forward once again she watches as it bubbles back up. Pulls her hand back and watches it go flat. Falling back on her heels she cocks her head to the side and regards the goo spot.

“Huh.”

“What?! Darcy, what is it?!”

“The puddle sort of…..Swells? When I get close to it?”

“It does _what?!”_ (Jane) “ _Fascinating!”_ (Erik)

“Yeah, like the closer I get to it, it sort of fills up. Like a zit.”

“Hold on Darce!”

More muttering from the peanut gallery.

“I think she’ll be fine, Jane.” (Erik)

“I don’t know. The last time I touched something wonky I got possessed by weird red mist.”(Jane)

“This is true.” (Erik)

Sighing Darcy settles in for the long haul. This could take a while. To amuse herself she starts to play chicken with the tar stuff. Arm out, arm in, arm out, arm in, out,in,out,in-

Letting her arm drop she rolls her head back and releases out a pained groan, “Seriously guys! I can get the sample. No biggie.”

“I just don’t think-- hold on Darcy!”

A strange sort of buzzing noise starts humming lowly through the cave.

Blinking in surprise, Darcy looks around, “Do you guys hear that?”

“ _Yes_ , Erik I get- hear what Darcy?!”

“That buzzing noise.”

“ _What_ buzzing noise?!”

“Seriously you don’t hear that?” Darcy asked glancing around the cave. There better not be some weird, mutant cave bees down here. She wouldn’t put it passed Africa to have those. It had giant, mice eating frogs it could totally have mutant cave bees.

“No, what are you talking about?!”

Darcy spins around trying to pin point where the sound’s coming from, then stops and glances down at the puddle, blinking in disbelief, “I think it’s coming from the puddle.”

“ _What?!”_

As she stares, the buzzing noise gets louder.

She leans closer.

“Darcy! Get away from the puddle!” Jane said urgently, but it’s faint and echo-y like she’s suddenly much further away.

The tar stuff swells and oozes over the edge.

“Darcy, do what Jane says, now!” Eric’s voice is faint.

She leans closer. The noise gets louder, and suddenly it’s like a million bees are filling the air around her.

“ _Darcy!”_

A glistening black hand shoots out and grabs Darcy’s face.

The world goes black.


	4. In the Cool Dark Deep

Cool wind  
The musty smell of earth  
Stars upon stars upon stars in the inky sky  
Grass soft under her feet   
Eyes as orange as the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the wonderful comments and bookmarks and kudos! I know 27 words does not a chapter make, but yeah. There you go. I actually have like 12 pages of stuff written but I'm a first time mom stuck at home with a 6 month old who doesn't know what a nap is so I'm lucky to get 20 minutes to do anything not baby related, and showers usually win. I've had up to chapter 6 written for a cool minute but I don't like to post anything until I've started on something new. I don't have the luxury of sitting down with my laptop whenever inspiration hits so there's a lot of idea notes on my phone that end up bare bones one the page a few days later, then get fleshed out slowly whenever I can get to it. It's a slow process, but I'm sticking with it. Thanks for reading this!


	5. Wading through the Murk and Mire

 

The first time Darcy wakes up, it lasts only a few seconds.

_Painfearconfusion_

Then she’s pulled back under.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The second time is longer. Long enough for her to recognize that she’s in a room, and she’s strapped down and her throat is dry. Then the panic sets in, and darkness swallows her whole.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She remembers sensations.

A cool hand on her forehead, a soft hand holding hers, bones fine and narrow.

The feeling of a warm damp towel on her face, a comb running through her hair.

She hears words but can’t understand them.

Shouting. Weeping. Humming.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The third time she wakes up, she's not sure if she's awake at all. There’s a still figure, draped in a black so black it sucks in all the light around it, nestled into the corner of the room. Darcy is terrified. She doesn’t want to look, but can’t peel her eyes away to save herself. It starts making a deep, keening noise that raises the hair on her arms, causes tears to swell and trickle out the corners of her eyes, fear- _so much fear_ \- seizes her chest-

It moves.

Darcy screams.

It swallows her whole.

 _Eyes as orange as the sun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one's a big(ish) chapter. promise. Just gotta proof read it and it'll be up.


	6. Somewhere Over the Rainbow Bridge (way up high)

Darcy wakes up slowly. Whatever she’s laying on is super uncomfortable, and her nose hella itches. Still in the fog of sleep, she goes to scratch it but comes up short. Tries again, only to come up against the same invisible force.

Huh.

Cracking her eyes open, she blinks the dregs of sleep away and looks down at her raised hand. It takes a cool minute for her brain to catch up with what her eyes are seeing. There’s an intricately carved shackle chaining her wrist to a stone slab.

Soooo…..yeah. Guess the really weird dream she had about being tied down wasn’t actually a dream.

Shit balls.

Movement catches her eye and she rolls her head back over so she’s facing up. Swirling, shimmering, transparent green wisps of color in the shape of a body floats above her in an array of interconnecting spider webs. Occasional flashes burst randomly where some of the connections meet, and twisting and snaking its way in thin tendrils throughout the green is a black so dark and dense that she can’t see through it. Like poison. Like tar.

Cray.

Looking around in confusion to try and get her bearings, she realizes that she’s in a room. Like, a really nice room. Like a Spartacus meets Vikings room. Like the walls are carved and there’s pillars and furs and ornate gold metal work all over and fire sconces with _flames_. Like _the_ nicest room she’s ever been in or ever will be in in the history of her _life_. And Jane’s passed out on like a stone version of an old school fainting chair thing dressed like some dark ages princess meets Grecian goddess or something.

Darcy licks her dry lips and hopes to Thor that this isn’t another hallucination, “….Janey?” she croaks.

Jane twitches and jerks awake, and glances around the room in confusion for a second, her eyes going big as she spots Darcy.

“ _Ohmygod_ Darcy! You’re awake!” she jumps up and rushes over to her, only to freeze ten feet away. “It _is_ you, isn’t it Darcy?” she asks uncertainly, fingers twisting and untwisting in her heavy skirt, fighting back the obvious urge to touch her.

Feeling confused, the girl strapped to the table furrows her brow, “Duh. What kind of stupid question is that? Dude, I’ve been your intern for like, literally ever. Like, we spend so much time together our periods have synced up. _”_

_“_ Ohthankgod _,”_ Jane sags with relief, but it does nothing to sooth Darcy’s frazzled nerves.

“Jane? Love of my life? Where are we, why are you dressed like some big oiled hunk’s about to burst in and ravish you, and why am I handcuffed?”

Jolting as if she’s just touched a live wire, Jane’s hands fly up, “Oh! Stay right there, I’ll be right back, I promise!” and with that she rushes out the giant door, leaving it hanging open in her wake.

“Yeah, not like I can go anywhere Jane, seeing as I’m _chained to a freaking slab!”_  Darcy yells after her, rattling said chains for emphasis, then flops back with a huff, which really was a bad idea in hindsight as it’s a _stone_ _slab_ and knocking her head back against it isn’t doing her any favors.

So she’s laying there, contemplating where her life went wrong (she’s narrowed it down to when she kissed Tommy Mullens in the third grade or when she’d signed up for computer camp) and trying to keep back the full blown panic attack she can feel fighting to take over in her chest, when she hears a commotion echoing its way down the hall moments before Jane charges back into the room followed by Thor dressed all regally, a very tall woman she’s never met before, and a couple of what she assumes are guards. The group as a whole stops some distance away, Thor holding onto Jane to keep her from getting any closer. The tiny brunette rolls her eyes and crossed her arms impatiently.

“Darcy.” Thor says solemnly, his face grave.

“Heeeey, big guy,” Darcy rasps shakily, “When did you get here? Actually, when did _I_ get here? Where is here by the way?”

All at once the tension seems to leave the room and Thor deflates on a gusty sigh.

“See,” Jane crows, slapping the back of her hand against his broad chest, “I _told_ you she was normal again. I _know_ Darcy. _Nobody_ can pull off Darcy, like Darcy.” And as if that made _perfect_ sense, the astrophysicists marches over to where her friend was still strapped down and takes her hand.

“…Seriously guys what’s going on? Did I like, get stupid drunk and get all handsy or something and cause an inter-dimensional incident? Coz, like, I’m _super_ sorry if that happened, but this is a bit of an overkill, ya think?” Darcy tries to joke it out, but it falls flat when Thor continues to look as though someone had died, “Oh shit- I didn’t feel your dad up, did I?”

“Darcy,” Jane asks gently, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Blinking in confusion at her she asks, “What?”

“Just humor me.”

“Oookay…um,” here she scrunches up her brow in concentration, “We were in a cave. In Ethiopia?” at Janes confirming nod she continues, “There was, like, mad crazy readings coming from it and we went inside. I…fell? Into a hole? Into another cave. Ethiopia’s butthole,” she says with more confidence. Jane squeezes her hand, “There was black stuff,” and here the hair on her arms stands up and she suppresses a shiver; feeling her pulse speed up, she fights the urge to glance over at the far corner, not wanting to know if anything’s there at all, “You and Erik wanted a sample….” She trails off.

“You heard a buzzing noise,” Jane gently prods her to continue, stroking her hand gently.

Licking her lips, she does, “Yeah, like a million bees, but you guys didn’t. The, puddle- the tar?- it moved. When I got closer to it. And the buzzing got louder.” She’s shaking now, and can’t make it stop.

“What happened Darcy?” Thor asks softly.

She doesn’t want to say. She doesn’t want to remember. Worse than Dark Elves. Worse than Space Slugs from Hell.

“Darcy? You must answer us if we are to help.”

“A hand,” she barely gets out, “grabs my face,” and she can feel it, the slimy black ooze slick and sticky against her skin; the hand itself, strong, powerful, and unyielding, blocking her nose and mouth. It could crush her skull in an instant. With a twitch of its long fingers.

“Darcy?” Jane’s grip on her hand tightens, frantic worry working its way back into her voice.

Pushing the thoughts back she looks and the blond man, swallows, “That’s all I can remember.” _Orange eyes. A figure draped in black. Keening._

Jane takes a deep breath and clutches her hand in both of hers, “We heard you scream, but we couldn’t see you, and we kept calling your name but you wouldn’t answer. Then you _crawled_ out of that hole. And…and _terrible_ things started to happen. I did the only thing I could think of,” here she clutches at the pendant around her neck, the one Thor had given to her for emergencies of the world ending kind, “I called Thor, and it took him and a few of his warrior buddies to get you unconscious, and then we brought you here. To Asgard. That was a month ago.”

Darcy feels her eyes bug out, “A _month ago?”_ she squeaks in disbelief. _A_ few _of his warrior buddies?!_ Just what the _hell_ happened to her?

“Whatever has its hold upon you, does not wished to relinquish it,” Thor says gravely, stepping up to Jane’s side and placing a large hand on Darcy’s head, “Our healers have tried their best this past month to aid you in any way they can,“ here he clenches his jaw, “It cannot be removed, but they believe it can be controlled.”

“How?”

“Eir,” the Asgardian prince gestures to the tall woman, “is our best healer. Along with a few others, they have devised a talisman that seems to be containing it.”

Darcy feels a tug on her ear, “Looks like you’ll be making a fashion statement for the foreseeable future,” Jane jokes, smiling ruefully before petting the brunette’s hair back away from her face.

Darcy took in the serious faces staring down at her.

“So… I’m safe? I can get unchained now?”

Thor quirks her a slight smile, “They believe so.”

Darcy relaxed and let out a sigh, “Sweet.”

“It is, indeed, sweet,” Thor agrees before waving a regal hand forward.

The woman called Eir approaches the bed and does something on the side and the mist body hovering above her fizzes away, then something else and the cuffs around her wrists and ankles pop open.

Cautiously sitting up, Darcy rubs absently at her wrists, “What was that anyways?”

Jane says “Quantum field generator” just as Eir says, “Soul forge.”

The two women tense and Jane turns to face off with the healer, puffing up as though preparing for a lengthy debate but the healer speaks in a volume that’s a little above inside voice before she can get started, “It is how we have been monitoring you and the entity that has attached itself to you these past weeks.”

_‘The entity that has attached itself to you.’_ Darcy feels her throat tighten up and her heart give a little spasm of panic. Oh Jeez. Oh man.

Noticing her discomfiture, Thor steps in before Eir can say anything else, “Perhaps we should allow Lady Darcy time to refresh herself before we further discuss the particulars of this situation.”

Nodding regally as though she has any say in the matter, the healer acquiesces, “I shall confer with my staff. We shall be in the common ward awaiting your summons.” With a stiff bob of her head in difference to the Asgardian Prince she exits the room.

Jane takes one of her intern’s hands in both of hers, “I’ll stay with Darcy. Help her figure the bathroom out and stuff,” she says, begging Thor with her eyes to give her this time alone with her best friend.

To his credit, the blond god only hesitates for a moment, taking in both women’s tight postures and clutching hands before giving in with the slightest relaxing of his broad shoulders and a gentle quirk of his lips, “A fine idea, my love,” he says tenderly. Stepping forward, he delicately clasps both of Darcy’s shoulders and pulls her in for one of his patented, vise-like hugs, smiling when the girl sighs and sags against him. “I am relieved to have you awake and with us again, Darcy. The Realms would be a dark place indeed, without your spark to light them up.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Darcy whispers and the back of her eyes sting at the sincerity in his words, squeezing him back.

Thor pulls back from her and turns to Jane, palming a cheek with one massive paw, “I shall return duly with sustenance. The guards shall remain in the hall if you should have need.”

Nuzzling into his hand Jane does nothing to hide the love that shines in her doe eyes, “Alright. We’ll be here.”

Smiling softly the towering blond lowers his head and busses her lips briefly with his. Stepping back he gives Darcy a reassuring smile and then he too, is gone with the flutter of his cape, trailing the silent guards with him.

As soon as the gargantuan doors close Jane’s arms are tight around the younger woman’s neck and Darcy’s fingers are twisting in the back of her dress, holding on for dear life as she completely loses her shit. By the time she calms down they’re _both_ a mess of tears and snot and puffy eyes.

“Wha-what’s wrong with me Janey?”

“Oh God, Darce. We were _so_ worried about you! We weren’t sure if you were ever going to wake up or-“

“Am I possessed?”

And there it is. She said it. The thing she really, really _does_ _not_ want to know the answer to.

“….In the most basic of terms? Yes.”

Oh sweet Jesus. Every possession movie she’s ever watched flashes through her brain and the wave of terrified panic she’s been fighting back since waking up crashes back down on her. She knows how this story ends. A failed exorcism and a gory, bloody death. _Her_ gory bloody death.

“Ohmygawd. Ohmyfuckinggawd. We need an old priest and a young priest- do they even _have_ catholic priests on Asgard?- and-and-and a _Rabi_ just in case- _Jane!_ I’m not even _baptized_ -“

“Oh honey, no!” Jane soothes taking hold of Darcy’s face between her hands, “It’s _not_ a demon.” She says firmly.

Searching her best friend’s face for lies and finding none Darcy presses, “Are you sure? Like, you’ve showered me in holy water and like stuck a cross to my forehead and everything?”

“Well, it’s not _that_ kind of demon. The healers- Eir and her team- don’t _exactly_ know what it is but they’re like, ninety-five percent sure it’s not an actively evil entity.”

“Really?” she asks, feeling some hope mix in with all the fear. Because she really doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but she’s drowning over here and even a half-sunk raft full of plague ridden rats is looking really good right now.

“Yes. They‘re pretty sure that whatever it is, it’s ancient. Like pre-humans old. And they have no clue how, but it somehow ended up on Earth millennia ago and must have just been sitting there dormant all this time until you fell on it. Literally. The few times they’ve actually had contact with it it seemed more scared and confused than murder and mayham.”

“Oh, okay,” Darcy sighs, and she feels a surprising wave of exhaustion creep over her for having just woken up from a month long coma. She’s so fucking overwhelmed with the current state of events that she just can’t even right now. Like at all.

Jane searches her face a moment more before letting go and taking her hands in hers again and giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Come on. I know Thor’s stalling to give us some time alone, and, while I’m sure Eir’s people give good sponge baths nothing beats the real thing.” Jane pulls her off the Soul Forge slab and Darcy feels long disused muscles twinge in protest as she follows the slight woman across the stone floor on slightly wobbly legs and through a wide, tall, pillared arch in one wall and into an opulent bathroom that was, if possible, even more luxurious than the main room had been.

Upon entering Darcy’s eyes were immediately drawn to the large square of water sunk into the center of the honey-colored stone floor; the steam rising from it danced in the diffused light shining through the geometric lattice that made up the wide floor to ceiling windows taking up the entire back wall and the slanted roof. This, she guesses, it the bath tub, thought to be honest, it’s more the size of a Walmart blow-up pool. One side of the room has a long stone vanity with a giant, ornate mirror above it and a delicate, carved stool sitting before it tufted in plush cornflower blue. On top are various unmarked pots and decanters of mysterious liquids and a large hammered brass bowl and matching pitcher. Across the way on the opposite side a beautifully decorated dressing screen stands against stone and gold wall, and a few feet away from it another pillared archway is cut out of the wall, though this one much narrower. The toilet maybe?

Jane leads her over to the vanity first and picks up one of the unmarked glass bottles and holds it up to her.

“This is Asgardian tooth paste. Which is basically mouth wash since they don’t have actual tooth paste, but it works better. Same rules as mouth wash apply, swish, gurgle, spit and _don’t_ swallow.” Setting down the water bottle sized container she picks up another one, if there’s a difference between the two, Darcy can’t tell, “ _This_ is the Asgardian answer to shaving. It’s like laser hair removal and Nair had a baby. You smooth it on, rinse it off and you’ll have the smoothest, softest, hairless skin you’ve ever had for the next month. _Don’t_ get the two mixed up,” she warns setting that one down too. Darcy silently nudges it further away from the tooth stuff just to be safe, “The rest,” she waves an absent hand at the rest of the pots and bottles, “are just hair and skin stuff, nothing you need to worry about mixing up. Here, do your teeth and I’ll grab some towels and stuff for your bath.”

“’Kay,” letting her friend go Darcy finally looks at herself in the mirror, expecting to see some sign of the thing inside of her. ‘Cause let’s be honest, possessed people are pretty obvious, what with all the scabs and grey skin and black lips and green tee-

She lets out the sigh she didn’t know she was holding when it’s just her normal face staring back at her, a slightly constipated look gracing her features. Whew. Well _that’s_ a relief. Then her eyes widen in silent horror.

Oh, _man_ , her eyebrows! Or should she say eye _brow_? Single, as in one. Because in her extended nap what once had been two had doubled in size and merged over the bridge of her nose to form an unholy union and she was now doing a passible impression of Frida. Daaaayum. If that’s what her brows looked like she didn’t even want to _know_ about other areas she kept heavily manicured. Curse you genetics!

Huffing in a very ‘why me?’ manner Darcy snatches up the tooth wash bottle, opens it and gives a hesitant sniff.

Hmm. Spearminty goodness. Wellp, bottoms up. Knocking back a mouthful Darcy starts _swish_ - _swishing_ while continuing to take stock in the mirror, absentmindedly registering the bubbling, tingling sensation happening in her mouth. Other than the caterpillar on her forehead, and a noticeably paler skin tone than the golden goddess hue she’d achieved in Africa, she was, in appearance, a hundred percent Darcy Marie Lewis. No signs that screamed ‘host of possible demon’. Awesome sauce. Same mouth, same chin, same nose, same- _what_ _the_?

Spitting out the fizzy liquid Darcy doesn’t even notice the smooth just brushed feeling of her teeth as she stands on her tip toes and leans as close to the vast mirror as she can get.

Her eyes. Her awesome, amazing, sexy as _fuck_ , blue as the goddamn _sky_ eyes. _Motherfucker._ There is now a fine, sickly orange ring around her blown pupils _sullying_ her beautiful blue eyes that most definitely _was_ _not_ there before this whole soap opera went down.

What. The. Fuck.

There were very few things that Darcy took pride in. Physically speaking. And her eyes had been like, top two, right after her lips. While, yes, her personality was _undoubtedly_ a ten –the delicious candy coating that encased her bombshell chocolatey center? Not so much. Like, let’s be honest, even when she was _on_ _point_ she was like, a hard earned seven. Now though? _Now_? With the puke orange demon mark? She might as well just call it quits and get a start on her cat collection.

“Alright Darc–“

“ _Jane_!” Darcy practically wails in misery, spinning from the hideous sight in the mirror to latch on to a startled Jane’s narrow shoulders as she clutched the bundle of cloth she’d been carrying to her chest.

“What?! What is it?! Is it the thing?!”h

“My eyes, Jane! _My_ _eyes_!”

Jane gasps and drops the stuff in her arms to grasp Darcy’s face, “What’s wrong with your eyes?! Did the demon–”

“They’re _ruined_! The thing ruined them! They’re _orange_! Look!” Darcy peels her eyelids back wide so Jane can see and the two women blink at each other in charged silence for a few stilted seconds.

“Wow,” Jane finally says then drags the desolate intern over to a better light source by her face, and wrenches her head back to see at a better angle, “Interesting…”

“Interesting?!” Darcy squeaks out through squished cheeks, “A demon turns my eyes, one of my two – _two_ _Jane!_ – best features cat vomit orange and all you can say is “wow, interesting”?!”

“Well, yeah. We’ll have to talk to Eir about this after you get cleaned up. It’s not like we can _do_ anything about it.”

“You are a well of comfort and reassurance, Janey” Darcy says sarcastically, “Really. A real gem.”

“I know. It’s a gift. Now come on, a bath’ll make you feel better. _And_ , I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Sighing gustily Darcy caves, “Fiiiine,” and let Jane drag her over to the giant sunken pool of steamy water. Pulling the knot in the sash wrapped around her waist loose, she shrugs out of the soft grey robe-dress she’d woken up in (the Asgardian version of a medical gown) and let it fall to the floor in a heap at her feet; not feeling the slightest bit shy in any way at being nude in front of the other woman. Having spent years in cramped living situations with Jane, not to mention the whole Africa thing, she’d lost count how many times the two had been naked together, be it in changing or bathing. In fact, it had become the norm while trekking across the Dark Continent for them to share showers and baths as it was safer when in the jungles and clean water was _more_ than a luxury when in the villages and it was _really_ fucking hard to wash your hair by yourself when all you had was a bucket. 

 While she had been inspecting her eyebrows’ attempts at a passible imitation of Groucho Marx, Jane must’ve poured some scented oils in the bath from the decanters sitting on the stone edge because the steam rising up from it was sweetly scented, though she couldn’t quite put a name to exactly what she was smelling. ‘ _Orange blossom, sweet grass,’_ her numb mind suggested, ‘ _roses and lavender_ _too.’_  Not even caring at the temperature, Darcy takes the three short steps down into the stone basin, sits, and sank back under the fragrant water; squeezing her eyes shut tight, she let the warm water close over her head and cocoon her in absolute silence. Relaxing her arms and legs she let her body sink the scant inches to the smooth bottom. Relishing in the slight weightlessness, she slowly rocks her head side to side; letting the feeling of warm water sliding across the sensitive skin on her head and the slight tug on her scalp as her thick hair, floating around her, sluggishly drags through the water, sooth her.

 Back…..

and forth……

back….

and forth….

It is only the slight burning in her lungs that makes her come back to the surface.

“About time,” Jane says, “Come over here, I’ll do your hair first.”

Slicking the water off her face and her hair back, Darcy wades over and spins, resting her back against the stone side where Jane kneels. The gently sloshing water is just deep enough to guard her nipples from the cooler air of the room.

“Asgard doesn’t have regular shampoo and conditioner, just some sort of thick oil that works as both. So. Our options are smells like space flowers or smells like All Spice Bearglove.” Jane holds up two glass bottles that look like identical wine carafes.

“Space flowers, I guess.”

“Good choice. What the hell’s a bearglove _anyways_? And why would Ian want to smell like one?”

Darcy sighs and pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her thighs, “It’s a made up word that’s supposed to sound hipster-macho like, ‘I’m manly and I shave my balls but secretly have _no_ idea how to use a hammer’, and guys wanna smell like it cuz they think vagina’s are _somehow_ more attracted to how dudes smell instead of their personalities and it’ll make them overlook the tiny dicks their sagging skinny jeans put on display. Like, seriously, I totally get the whole ‘grower not a show-er’ thing but mathematically there’s only so much growing that can realistically go on and it’s not _that_ much. Ian just got it because it was cheap in bulk on Amazon and it had like, a million five-star ratings by high school uber douches who got ahold of their mom’s Prime account.”

“Huh,” Jane says in mild surprise, “learn something new every day,” pouring some of the floral oil into her hand then slicking it down the length of Darcy’s hair. Gathering the younger woman’s long, dark tresses into her hands and piling them atop her head she works the cleansing oil in with practiced ease.

“Where are Erik and Ian anyways? Are they here too?” Darcy asks, thinking about the other two members of their odd little family for the first time since waking up. She kinda feels bad about it, but she’s pretty sure she’ll get a pass this time, since, ya know, the whole waking up possessed thing was kind of like, a total kick in the pants. Maybe they hadn’t come with because of it? Maybe they were so terrified of her Emily Rose imitation that they’d stayed behind. Wait- what if she’d _hurt_ them? What if she’d-

“Did I kill them?” she asks softly, dread filling her.

“What the what? Darc– _no._ Erik and Ian are _fine_. They’re here, just running around taking readings and samples and charting the different constellations. Like _Erik_ would turn down a chance to come here and you know Ian works better with someone to tell him what to do. They’re having a blast and Thor’s got them constantly guarded by his warrior buddies so they can’t get in any trouble and spark an inter-dimensional incident.”

Darcy’s shoulders sag with relief, “That’s, that’s great. Awesome,” swallowing thickly she continues, “I’m glad I didn’t h-hurt you guys, or try to suck your souls-“

“ _Hey_!” Jane interrupts sharply, tugging on her hair to get her attention, “You didn’t hurt _any_ of us. Erik and Ian are _fine_. _I’m_ fine. We’ve all been worried _sick_ about you and the only reason they weren’t here when you woke up too is because we’ve been taking turns keeping you company.”

Darcy rests her chin on her knees, trying to contain the sick, roiling wad of fear and doubt knotting up in her stomach from spilling out, “But-“

“No. _Nothing_ that’s happened is your fault. You were in Africa because I bullied you into going with me, and-and you got p-possessed because I wanted that stupid fucking sample-“ here Jane’s voice breaks and Darcy feels her heart go with it.

Turning around she catches as the first tears start their roll down her best friend’s cheeks, “Oh Janey-boo, oh no. It’s not your fault-“

“It is. It really, totally is! _I_ made you come with me, _I_ made us go into that _stupid_ cave and I wanted that sample! If you’d just stayed home-“

Darcy grabs Jane’s soapy hands, “First of all, Boss Lady, let’s set this record straight. When have you _ever_ been able to make me do anything? Like literally, the last time you tried to make me give you the keys to the lab you ate linoleum hall floor while I sat on your back and gave you wet-willies until you called me the Supreme Overlord of All Science Nerds. And –news flash! –if I _really_ didn’t want to go to Africa or follow your skinny butt around the world chasing crazy awesome space stuff I could’ve like, put my duel degrees to use and taken SI or the CIA or Hammer Industries up on any of the dozens of job offers they’ve been e-mailing me since I graduated. I choose you. You’re my heterosexual life partner.”

Jane sniffs and gives her a watery smile, “You’re my heterosexual life partner too.”

“Well, I hope so otherwise we’re going to have to explain all that chilly night spooning we did to Thor.”

Jane snorts out a snicker, “Nah. He’d probably get all teary-eyed and start spouting off about the bonds of warrior companionship and want to join in.”

“I could _so_ get behind a Thor snuggle sandwich. I love you Janey, but gah, I kinda-sorta wanna lick his biceps. Plus, he gives amazing hug. _Amazing_.”

A dreamy sigh, “I know, right?”

And all was right once again in Jane&Darcyland. They were a Team, with a capital 'T'. Bert and Ernie. Kirk and Spock. Lucy and Ethel. The Blues Brothers. If fire breathing tin cans, life crushing student loans, elves and sharing a bathroom couldn’t break them up than being possessed by a possible demon wouldn’t. Bring it.

The sound of the heavy room door opening and closing followed by Thor’s voice pulls them out of their warm bubble of feels.

“I have returned with sustenance,” he calls, avoiding the entrance to the bathroom and any accidental naked Darcy sightings. It only taken getting squirted in the eyes _once_ with grapefruit body wash for him to learn to not just walk in on her while showering, “When you have finished having your ‘Girl Chatter’ we shall feast and call for the healers. I have fetched Erik and young Ian as well.”

Darcy and Jane share an ‘omg he’s so cute’ eye roll before the astrophysicist let out an amused huff, “Take your time, finishing up. I’ll be out in the room if you need me,” going to her knees she pauses for a second to kiss Darcy on the forehead, “I’m _so_ glad you’re back, Dee, we’re gonna figure this out, I promise,” and rises to her feet.

“I know, Janey. If anyone can, it’s you and Erik and Thor’s people.”

“Damn right,” she says in parting then walks out of the bathroom calling to Thor, “It’s called ‘Girl _Talk’_ , Thor, not-“

Smirking, Darcy doesn’t hear the rest as she dunks back under the water, happy to be back too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More explanations in the next chapter, now that the major feels have gotten out of the way. A reviewer has asked if the black stuff Darcy touched is the same as the stuff on the Shield tv show. I don't watch it, soooo I'm gonna say no? I've been meaning to power watch it, I just generally don't have the time. Any similarities between the two are purely coincidental.


	7. Roomies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby  
> edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my soul
> 
> -I'm on Fire (AWOLnation cover)

After rinsing her hair Darcy eyeballs the bottle of hair remover with a healthy dose of suspicious caution. She’s used stuff like Nair before, and experienced their occasional unpleasant ingrown hair results. She most definitely preferred a razor, but she’s _seen_ the horror of what she was working with under her arms and between her legs and now cannot un-see it. She’s willing to take that gamble to fight the jungle back.

Grabbing the hair tie that had miraculously survived the odd turn of events, she piles her wet hair into a messy bun atop her head before lifting a leg out of the warm water and resting her foot on the cool, rounded stone edge of the bath. Picking up the decanter she pours a small puddle of the hair removing oil into her palm, rolling her eyes. Everything that has to do with personal grooming in Asgard seemed to be an oil, besides the tooth wash. As she rubs it across her wet thigh and down her calf to her ankle she wonders if anybody’s ever gotten them mixed up. Like the hair washing oil and the hair removing oil.

Dropping the oily leg back into the water she raises the other one and repeats the process. Then she does her armpits and finally the delicate work of between her legs. She waits a moment; expecting to smell the same hair melting scent of Nair or something. Nothing. Shrugging she plops back down into the pool and rubs the oil off then rises again to inspect the results. Smooth. Hairless. _Day_ um Gina.

After that it’s a quick soap up and rinse down and then she’s stepping up and out of the sudsy tub and wrapping herself in the plush towel Jane had left for her folded up on the edge. Walking back over to the vanity, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind, she reaches up to let her hair down, and pauses when she catches sight of the dangling earring hanging from her left lobe. Turning her head to get a better look, she lets out a low whistle. Woah. Never let it be said that functional couldn’t be fashionable, ‘cause the Asgardians had it down to a science.

It’s gold, is the first thing she notices about it. So sue her alright? She came from an over-full household filled with many a night of hamburger helper, endless pots of spaghetti, and a sickening about of meatloaf; the closest she’s ever been to gold is cheap party jewelry from Clair’s. But she’s pretty damn sure that the sparkly hanging from her ear is a hundred percent real. The hook, if you can call it that, is a delicate horseshoe of chain that attaches to the points of a fat half circle, thickly carved with Asgardian knots and sigils; at its center is a tear drop shaped hole. The edge of the half circle is studded with gold balls and hanging down from the center of the curve is a lightly foggy, jelly bean shaped clear (space?) stone, its edge wrapped in a thin layer of carved gold as well. When the light catches the dangling gem jagged gold veins flash through it, like trapped lightning. _Swank_. Tentatively, Darcy reaches up and starts fiddling with it, trying to figure out how it comes undone. It doesn’t. The chains don’t have a clasp at all, it’s like it was made _in_ her ear. Okay, not swank. Not swank _at_ _all_.

Pushing aside the rising tide of panic, _again_ , and saving the freak-out for the hopefully perfectly _logical_ explanation for the permanent face weight, Darcy goes back to her previous mission. Tugging the black band of elastic free, she lets her damp dark hair tumble down around her shoulders. Gathering it over one bare shoulder she picks up the ornately worked brass and bone comb (cheese and _rice_ , is _anything_ plain in this place?) and, beginning at the dripping ends, starts to work it through; letting the slow, methodical drag of the teeth sooth her way past frazzled nerves. When she’s finished she twists it into a tight fishtail, and gives her brows the dirty look they deserve then a lightbulb goes off and she hustles back over to the bath, grabs up the bottle of hair remover, and hustles back to the vanity. Carefully- ever so carefully- she dabs the tip of her pinky into the oil and (holding her breath and going cross-eyed) smooths it between her eyes making sure to keep it even. Just as carefully, like a seasoned brain surgeon, she wipes the residue and hair away leaving her with two very bushy brows instead of the one, and calls it good. That’s all she can do, anything more would require the skills of a professional or Jane’s steady hand.

Laughter and the low murmur of pleasant conversation trickles in through the bathroom archway as she contemplates the dress hanging from the dressing screen. It’s as ridiculous and beautiful as everything else in the place, and she’s pretty damn sure that it’s worth at _least_ the price of a semester at Culver. At least. Dropping the towel around her ankles, she wiggles into the very snug fitting cream colored cap sleeve gown and somehow feels _more_ naked in it than when she was bare-assed two seconds ago. It hugs every dip and curve and leaves _nothing_ to the imagination. Apparently, Asgardian women don’t have to worry about gravity and just let the girls free hang, lucky bitches, but right now Darcy can see her dusky nipples through the fabric and that’s just no bueno. Snatching the silky wine and cream brocade fabric draped over the screen she hastily unfolds it and holds it up and just stares at the heavy, lengthy material. She has _no_ _idea_ what to do with it. At all. Darcy makes a few desperate attempts to wrap it around her body in any way she thinks it _might_ work then finally gives up with a frustrated huff.

“Jane?” she calls, fed up.

There’s a lull in the conversation out in the other room, “Coming!” Jane calls in a chipper voice and she hears the slap of her friend’s heavy footfalls and the swish of thick fabric seconds before the woman herself rounds the corner of the archway.

“What’cha need?”

Darcy just holds up the offending article of clothing and says, “Help.”

Giving her a confident smile, Jane takes it out of hands, “It can’t be that hard.”

They give it the old college try, but two heads, an extra pair of hands _and_ a PhD in astrophysics can’t figure it out either. Jane finally calls it quits tossing her hands in air and marches back out of the bathroom, “Thor!”

She comes back with reinforcements in the form of what Darcy assumes is a maid or something. The tall ( _again_ , lucky bitches) statuesque woman doesn’t even bat an eye and silently takes the wine panel from her and in a matter of seconds wraps it, drapes it and tucks it around the cream dress then glides back out of the room with a bob of her head.

Jane and Darcy stare at each other.

“Well,” says Jane, “that was easy.” They smack hands over their mouths to muffle their laughing but Jane snorts and Darcy chokes on her spit and they just _lose_ it and it feels so _good_ to laugh and for a moment it’s like they’re back in dusty dry Ethiopia and they’re laughing at some cheesy stupid joke that Ian totally doesn’t get while Erik rolls his eyes all disapprovingly in the background.

Finally their mirth peters out and they just smile at each other for a moment, “Come on,” Jane says, taking her hand, “Everyone’s waiting to see you, plus there’s food. You remember food right, your one true love?”

Darcy makes it out of the bathroom only tripping over the hem of her dress twice (a graceful hippo she is not) and wishes another hole would open up for her to jump into when everyone in the main room (bed room? Hospital room? Demon containment zone?) stops their conversations and all eyes zero in on her.

She’s getting really sick of these mini anxiety attacks. For real. The Darcy Lewis Rollercoaster of Emotional Turmoil needed to be shut down. Like, this cannot be good for her indigestion or something, and she’s already got enough pooping problems what with all the coffee and pop tarts and banana’s that made up her three basic food groups before possession.

True to his word, the only people in the room are Thor, Erik and Ian. Both men have followed the ‘when in Rome’ dress code and are clothed in what she assumes is the peak of scholarly Asgardian fashion. Erik is in a long, open, high-neck over-jacket in a vibrant carnelian, its cuffs and border embroidered heavily in silver, the ends reaching mid-calf. Underneath he wears a dove gray V-neck tunic, its edges also heavily embroidered, and loose rust red pants. Darcy commends whoever dressed him, as even if he were to lose the pants, the tunic that fell mid-thigh would keep the goods from possibly scarring any young Asgardian’s who happened to come upon the half-naked scientist. Ian is dressed similarly, in a hip length, high neck hunter green jacket, slightly less embroidered in black, which is closed hiding his tunic and black pants with a more form fitting cut.

She waves her hands at them nervously, “Heeeey guys,” and oh my god her voice actually _squeaks_ at the end. Could this get anymore awkward? Like it’s not bad enough that they’re all looking at her like her head would start spinning at any moment-

“Darcy!” annnd Erik’s hugging her. Bear hugging her to be exact, with his cheek pressed to the top of her head. Relief floods her veins as she inhales his old man cloves and coffee smell so fast she feels her legs go weak with it. He’s not afraid of her; he didn’t go running from the room screaming his head off, he _hugged_ her. Darcy wraps her arms around his squishy middle and squeezes back tight; love for the quirky scientist filling her and leaking a little bit out the corners of her eyes. Two more arms band around her and another body presses into her side, this one much narrower and significantly less fluffy.

“Glad you’re awake,” Ian says. Darcy reads between the lines and hears, ‘Oh-thank-god-you’re-back-I-can’t-contain-Jane-and-Erik-help-me-this-place-is-terrifying-meep’.

“Me too, Minion, me too.” She says in a slightly wobbly voice. Gah, she needs to get a handle on these weepy emotions. Pushing out of the hug-a-thon, feeling like she’s more than filled her being nice quota for the month, she surreptitiously wipes at her eyes, hoping no one will notice.

Her stomach does her a solid and distracts everybody from all the feels taking place in the room by growling like it’s never even heard of food, and everyone chuckles.

“Come, eat Darcy,” Thor says, practically Vana White-ing the spread laid out on the table. It’s like that scene from _Hook_ when old Peter finally sees the food; it’s a mix of delicious looking familiar things and intriguing, but no less yummy, strange looking things. Spit pools in her mouth and Darcy makes a conscious effort not to drool all over the fancy dress. Waddling delicately over to the massive table that had somehow magic’d its way into the room while she was bathing, she carefully sits down on an empty bench chair, and stares in awe at all the food. She’s going to eat all of it. All the food. She doesn’t care what it is, she’s eating it. Reaching out she takes hold of a leg of something.

“Ah, a fine choice,” Thor says, “The-“

“Uh-buh-buh-buh-buh!” Darcy cuts him off holding a finger against his perfect plushy lips, “Do not, tell me, what it is. Don’t tell me what any of this,” she flails the hand holding the mystery leg at all the food, “is. Just let me enjoy its tasty roasted goodness in ignorance. Unless I’m about to eat baby anything, I don’t wanna know. We cool?”

“Very,” Says the mighty thunder god in obvious amusement.

“Awesome,” she says around the hunk of meat, then blocks everything out to focus solely on the feast laid out before her. A colorful tartlet catches her attention next and she hums in pleasure when heavily spiced deliciousness glides across her tongue. After that it’s something that looks a lot like an apple hollowed out and filled with meat, nuts, bread chunks and possibly raisins with some sort of ooziness dribbling down the sides; followed quickly by a pillow-soft golden bun dripping with a butter-like substance, one bite into its softness reveals a hidden meat and vegetable filling that makes her eyes roll back in almost orgasmic pleasure. She tries something that looks like stewed pears, hums in surprise at how amazballs it actually is, and goes back for seconds with one hand while the other reaches for a terrine of odd fruit-like things that’s calling her name.

“You are a woman after Volstagg’s heart,” Thor comments in an obviously impressed tone, “He too, enjoys feasting in all its many forms.”

Taking a quick gulp of honeyed something-or-other that should be outlawed for how it slips gently and sweetly over her palate and slithers down her throat to pool warmly in her tummy out of a literally – _literally_ –golden chalice, “Nah,” she licks her bottom lip, “If you think I’m impressive this is nothing; you should see Jane on twenty-five cent wing night at the Chicken Haus. She can put ‘em down like nobody’s business. Gotta pic on the wall and everything.”

Thor raises eyebrows at his lady love, “Truly?”

“ _Darcy_!” Jane hisses scandalized.

“Cool it Janey, I’m singing your praises like a good wing man –get it? _Wing_ _Man_? Buh-dump-buh! Oooh, is that tentacle thing like calamari? Please say it’s like calamari.”

Jane sighs in defeat and sits on Thor’s lap, pouting. In an effort to cheer her up, but mostly just because it pleased him to do so since he and his intelligent beauty seldom have had the time or setting to simply enjoy each other, he carefully selects choice morsels from various platters to hand feed her; making soulful googly eyes at the woman who claimed his heart. Darcy would’ve _totally_ gagged and vomited at the super sugary lovey-dovey-ness taking place at the head of the table except she’s starving and this food is hella good. Erik and Ian join them at the table as well lured by the siren scents of the feast wafting about the room and they’re surrounded in a bubble of comfortable silence for the span of time it takes everyone to eat their fill and the healers to be sent for.

Eir strolls regally in trailed by two other non-descript women. Darcy assumes they are also healers based solely off the fact that all three women are wearing identical sea blue dresses. Stopping before the absentmindedly munching group the women bob their heads in difference at the golden haired god.

“Highness.” Eir intones.

“Healer. The Lady Darcy is most eager to know the details of her situation, please explain.” “So eager,” Darcy mutters sarcastically, willing for her appendix to spontaneously burst or an asteroid to fall out of the sky and crush her.

“As you will. Please, Lady Darcy, if you will follow me to the soul forge.” The stately woman gestures with a hand to the stone slab Darcy’d woken up on.

The group as a whole rises from the long table and, with minimal tripping, mosey to the center of the room where, what Darcy privately thinks of as a sacrificial alter, stands.

One of the healers fiddles with the odd controls and the wavy, green, energy body that had been floating over her shimmers into existence over it and the lights in the room dim.

“This is the physical manifestation of your anima, the energy which makes up your being –your life force, if you will,” Eir says walking around the soul forge so she’s looking through the energy waves at the others, “A normal being’s is represented in a simple color, as with the green you see before you. What is _not_ normal is the thick black energy strands weaving its way throughout your essence. This,” she says with a wave of a hand, “is the other; the ancient being that has taken root within you.”

“But,” Darcy says licking suddenly dry lips, “you can get it out, right? Like Jane and the Aether?” Said scientist takes hold of her hand.

“I fear not,” Eir says, and here her voice holds the first shade of emotion since she started talking, the tint of regret, “The entity has more than latched on, as with the Lady Jane and the Aether. It is not simply just an unwanted passenger. When you made contact with it, it did not just bind itself to you, it has _twined_ itself with your soul, worked itself in the very fabric of your being.”

“So what are you saying?” Darcy asks in a voice that only has the faint edge of a tremble.

“The two cannot be separated, one cannot exist without the other. Whatever happened when you made contact has melded you souls together and remade you into one being, and not just at the spiritual level. When we ran tests on you physical form we found changes have even occurred at the deepest levels of your cells.”

Annnnd que brain explosion.

“Are you telling me that there’s a demon in me and I’m just a Darcy jacket?”

“No. It was weak, when you stumbled upon it; formless, barely a shade of what it once was, fading for millennia, when it sensed your aura. You have an uncharacteristically bright soul, and it must have woken it from its slumber. I believe it was pure, mindless, instinct to survive that had the being reaching for you when you fell into that cave. Upon contact it tried to consume you, to replenish itself and form anew, in a last bid effort to remain alive. Had it been stronger, I fear that yes, you would be nothing more than a, ‘Darcy Jacket’, if anything of you would have been left at all. But your soul was stronger, and the being’s only option was to submit to your stronger essence or be burnt away, which would have most likely resulted in both of your demises. Luckily, the favor of the Norns was shining upon you. Your soul is the dominant of the two; you are the master of the body you now share. Your body is simply just not entirely Midgardian anymore.”

Her fingertips were numb, and her stomach rolled, threatening to evacuate all the delicious food, “What percent are we talking here, Doc? Like, when the space census comes in the mail and asks my species do I still mark ‘Midgardian’ or do I fall under ‘Other’?”

“The being makes up roughly forty percent.”

Darcy’s mouth is desert dry, “So totally checking the ‘Other’ box. And I barely won the spiritual thumb-war.” Fucking awesome.

There’s pressure on her hand and she looks down in surprise, seeing Jane’s fine boned fingers grasping hers. She’d forgotten that she was holding it. A large hand settles on her shoulder.

Eir blinks at the odd turn of phrase, but seems to grasp the general meaning of it, “Yes,” in her vast time spent as the head palace healer, she had learned that being as perfectly clear about a patient’s ailments was the best route, even in the face of horrible diagnosis. She would not start lacing it with honey now, “It was a close thing this last month, as your physiology underwent the changes. Not only did we have to battle high fevers, brain swellings, sporadic heart arrests, fluids in your lungs, and seizures, the being was also occasionally surfacing to the forefront of your conscious. It was deeply confused and hostile, after waking form such a long slumber. It tried repeatedly to gain the upper hand, before we could seal it.”

“ _What_ is _it_?” Darcy bites out _. I don’t want to know. This isn’t happening. I don’t want to know. Wake up, you’re still in the cave. You just knocked your noggin. This is all a massively fucked up dream._

“Something very ancient, from before the time of the All Father this much we know. There are whispers of it across the Nine Realms but most have faded into obscurity. My healers have been combing the archive extensively for any sign of a name, but have been fruitless.”

“Is…Is it…Evil?”

Eir gives a gallic shrug, “That is undeterminable, at our current crossing. Such an ancient being comes from a time when such delineations were not distinctive. Good and Evil were not even yet concepts. No black nor white, just simply gray. It comes from a time before Gods were Gods. With it currently sealed and slumbering, we cannot ascertain its nature.”

Darcy’s floundering brain caught the term ‘sealed’ and clung to it with all its might, “This thing,” she gives the low grade BMW hanging from her ear a gently tug, “This’ll keep it locked up, right? As long as it’s in the thing can’t get out and redrum everybody, right?”

“…In theory? We believe so. With so little known about the being and it’s abilities we can only assume so much with a certainty. The being was wild, uncontrollable, when it was in possession of your body. As soon as we attached the seal it settled into what our mind healers confidently believe is an exhaustive slumber, cut off from your energy as it is, in the section of your being it now resides in. Its attempt to assimilate you took much of what depleted energy it had left. A span of seven days has passed since we attached the seal and we have run a multitude of tests and, with as much assurance as I can give you, I can say that while the seal remains intact you shall remain in control.”

“Greaaaat,” she draws out, squeezing the bridge of her nose and sighing, “So let me get this straight: some _possibly_ blood thirsty, _literally_ older than dirt, _maybe_ doomsday god-dude, _possibly_ hoping to lay some serious smotage down on all the Nine Realms, ended up in a cave that was in _another_ cave that smelled like my cousin Dwayne’s bedroom in effing _Ethiopia,_ that I was juuuuust lucky enough to fall into, smelled the chocolatey snarky goodness that is my sexy-ass soul, tried to straight up Buffalo Bill me but I’m _just_ enough of a BAMF to fight it’s _currently_ weak ass off, but only just, and is now my own personal Tyler Durden times a billion, and I am literally almost half an illegal alien. Literally.”

Ian lets out a nervous giggle. It’s his standard response to uncomfortable and/or stressful situations.

Eir just blinks at her, only understanding about every third word that came out of her mouth. Mostly the ‘the’’s and the ‘it’’s and the ‘literally’’s but not necessarily the context in which they were being used.

“Technically Darcy, I believe you would still count as an American citizen, being born in Astoria,” Erik supplies.

Darcy just sighs deeper and lets her head fall back on her neck so she’s addressing the twenty foot (ridiculously carved and bronzed) ceiling loudly, “Is that seriously supposed to make me feel better, right now? Seriously, Erik? Being born in Astoria Oregon, where the only – _single_ – cool thing that ever happened there in the history of ever was the filming of the Goonies? Seriously, Erik? _Seriously_?” She finishes her voice going slightly screechy at the end.  

“We’ve gone over everything, Darce,” Jane says, defeat and frustration with herself clear in her tone, as she musses her hair with her free hand, calling attention to the dark smudges under her cognac eyes, “We’ve tried everything we can, _everything_. Exhausted every avenue Thor’s people could find in all the Realms and the only thing we were able to come up with was the seal.”

“It is not an ideal situation,” Thor says softly, squeezing her shoulder again, willing her to understand, “It is, possibly, one of the least desired of solutions, but it was the only course of action we could take that ended with your survival. Be angry with us if you must, but I for one will not feel sorry about choosing the option that left you alive and with us. I would have a living Lightening Sister, even one sharing forty percent of her being with an unknown, to a possible Darcy Jacket, or a dead Lightening Sister.”

Darcy sags, deflating as all the anger and fear left her like hot air, leaving her empty and drained. It really wasn’t their fault, “I know. I get that you guys did what you had to do, and, I promise I’m totally, stupidly grateful that I, like, don’t have a face talking out of the back of my head right now demanding unicorn Bloody Mary’s for breakfast. I’m having a moment, and as soon as it passes I swear I’ll be okay.”

Taking in her pale pallor and wide eyes Eir suggested, “Perhaps it is best if I and my staff were to return to the healing ward until Lady Darcy has any further questions.”

Thor smiles gratefully at the woman who had been the head healer for as long as he could remember, patching up his childhood scratches long before he could wield a sword let alone his hammer, “That is a most excellent idea. We shall call if there’s a need.”

Darcy didn’t pay attention as the women left once again, instead allowing Jane to tug her back over to the table and nudging her back onto her bench chair.

“Well, not gonna lie, this sucks giant hairy donkey dicks.”

Erik, once again taking his place across from her, runs a hand through his thinning hair, “Not exactly the best words to describe the current situation, but yes, it does suck giant donkey dicks.”

Picking at the remains of her plate Darcy rests her free elbow on the table and props her head up, “So what happens now?”

“When the sealing appeared to be a success Eir recommended upon you waking, whenever that would be, that you remain on Asgard for a short period of time so she and her staff may observe you. If there are any complications that arise during that time it would be safer if they were to happen here, as opposed to on Midgard. If – _when_ –all goes well you will be free to return to your life,” Thor said with a shrug that seemed to convey ‘and that’s that’.

“And if there are complications? If the thing wakes up and decides, ‘hey, I kinda like it here, I’m gonna enslave all the peoples’?”

Jane rolls her eyes, “Then we knock your ass back out and do some more research. Duh. And if that doesn’t work we’ll just beat the thing into submission.”

 “You called us the Borg,” Ian pipes up, “Resistance is futile.”

“We’re not going to give up on you, Darcy,” Erik reassures her.

Thor gave her a bemused smile, “As I don’t believe there is an entity out there capable of dominating your rambunctious spirit, I do not think it will come down to that.”

Feeling herself getting slightly choked up at the awesomeness that was her geeky misfit family, Darcy tries to deflect, snatching up the nearest strip of meat, “Man I could totally go for some coffee right now. Where’s the alien coffee, Jane?”

Jane shares a cautious look with everyone else and slowly turns back to the curvy brunette, “Darcy, honey….”

“Yesh?” Darcy says chewing on what she thinks is bacon. She’s hoping it’s bacon.

A large hand grasps her shoulder and she looks over at where Thor sits with big, soulful puppy eyes….is he trying to comfort her?

“Asgard…Asgard doesn’t –it doesn’t-“ Jane stutters out.

“There’s no coffee here!” Ian blurts out, then slaps his hand over his mouth like he could take it back.

The room stills and Erik just closes his eyes and waits for the storm.

Jane gives him a ‘what the fuck’ look.

Darcy sets her hunk of space bacon down and struggles to her feet in the Dress.

“Darcy, where are you-“ Jane gets out in confusion.

“Put me back in a coma you guys,” she says, trip-marching over to the fluffy bed, “Wake me up when you either figure this whole thing out or get coffee.”

“Darc-“

“Nope,” she says, yanking back the thick covers and struggling into the bed, Dress and all, “Nuh-uh. Sharing forty percent of me with something that will never cover half the bills? Possibly going completely psycho and murder-y? Okay, I can work with that. But I can NOT-“ she thumps the pillows behind her into submission “-actually, no, WILL not, do this without coffee.”

“Darcy,” Erik soothes, “You’re being unreasonable.”

“Am I, Erik? AM I? I fell in a hole, I’m possessed, been in a _coma_ for a month, lost one of my two – _two!_ –best features, and don’t even get me _started_ on my eyebrows! Now there’s no coffee! None! Nada! Zip! Considering what I’ve had to deal with in a short period of time I think I’m being very reasonable! I am the fricking poster child for reasonable!”

“It’s, it’s not so bad,” Jane tries to cajole, hoping up to sit on the edge of the bed, “They’ve got tea, it’s got caffeine in it.”

Darcy gives her dead eyes, “I don’t know who you’re trying to convince more right now, me or yourself, Jane?”

Jane narrows her eyes at the sass and starts to snap back when Darcy lets loose a long, involuntary, jaw-cracking yawn.

“Whoo. Sure doesn’t feel like I slept for a month.”

“I would not categorize it as a restive slumber, more like a healing one,” says Erik.

“We should let you sleep,” Jane chimes in, “It’s been a pretty long day for you. Lotta stuff to take in.”

Darcy felt a little fissure of panic shoot through her at the idea of being alone. With herself. And the thing _. Orange eyes_.

“Ah, yes!” Thor exclaimed, unaware of Darcy’s private micro-meltdown, “On the morrow we shall dine together and then I shall take you about the city and show you all the wonders that Asgard has to offer. We shall leave you to rest. Come, my Love,” he says with a sweet smile on his puppy dog face directed at Jane.

Jane, who knew every one of Darcy’s smallest expressions and tells, saw the minute shifting in her best friend’s face and decided to take matters into her own dainty hands, “I’m gonna stay with Darce tonight,” she says loftily, as if that had been the plan all along, giving the other girl’s fingers a squeeze, “Have a slumber party, catch her up on Asgard gossip, braid each other’s hair, tame her eyebrows, you know, girl stuff.”

Darcy gave the tiny astrophysicist a grateful look.

Thor’sj eyebrows rose in surprise at this new knowledge, but only hesitated a moment when he saw the way the two women were leaning into each other; hands clasped tightly together, Darcy’s shoulders drawn slightly up towards her ears. Smiling softly at the two women, one the light that filled his soul the other a sister to that same soul, “Very well,” Striding forward he busses a quick kiss against Darcy’s forehead, “Sleep well, my lightening sister.”

“Like I have any other options with this orgy sized bed. Is the mattress literally a cloud or what?”

“An Asgardian secret,” he smirks then turns to Jane and places a much less chaste and definitely not brotherly kiss across her plush mouth that left the thinner brunette a little breathless and slightly dazed, “And you as well, my sweet Jane,” He says, practically preening at the obvious effect he had on the brainy woman.

“Uh-huh,” Jane sighs, ‘Back at’cha.”

Erik and Ian exchange goodnights with them as well, both strictly verbal, and the three men stride out of the room finally leaving to two best friends to themselves. As soon as the doors are closed Darcy turns to Jane with a shit-eating grin and starts poking her narrow shoulder.

“Spa-looosh,” She sing-songs.

Jane flops back onto the mountain of downy pillows with a gusty sigh, arms wide, “Right?”

“You might wanna scoop your brains back up since they oozed outta your ears during that panty-dropper tongue-tango I just witnessed. They’re about to soak into the bed spread,” since the shoulder was no longer within reach, Darcy continued her poking assault on her unguarded boney hip.

“I know,” Jane practically moaned in mortification-tinged pleasure covering her face, “Stop that,” she swats at Darcy’s attacking finger, meeting laughing blue eyes, “I keep thinking the-the, _glow_ or whatever’s going to fade or something, you know? We’ve never spent so much time together, consecutively, without having some possibly world ending thing popping up, and we’re usually spending that time doing, ah, other stuff–“

“If by ‘other stuff’ you mean sexy-sexy times where he bends you into a human pretzel while doing, unspeakable, dirty, awesome things to you to make you moan his name, then shyeah, you guys are usually doing ‘other stuff’. Erik, Ian and I’ve all heard you guys doing ‘other stuff’.”

“You have?” Jane squeaks.

“Dude, we spent, like, how long in the jungle together, and quiet you are not. I don’t even think Thor knows the meaning of the word whisper. But yeah. You guys gave the howler monkeys a run for their money. Pretty sure all the predators were scared off any time he visited though, so thanks, my love handles owe you one.”

Jane covered her face once again, “Oh. My. God.”

Darcy braved another poke to the hip, “Hey,” jab, jab, “more about this possibly fading but not fading glow thing.”

Brown eyes peeked through spread fingers and met blue for a long moment. Darcy waggled her bushy brows at her.

“Fine,” Jane says, sitting and sliding off the massive bed, “But I’m fixing those things on your forehead before they decide to break free and take over the world.”

“Oh thank God,” Darcy cries as Jane hustles into the bathroom, “You don’t know what I was willing to do to get these fixed, Janey,” she yells over the sound of the petite woman rummaging around in the other room, “Like, literally, I was about to offer some stuff I save for, like, dire situations. Like crazy, freaky stuff.”

A triumphant “Ah-HA!” echoes out of the room and Jane marches back out, freaking _gold_ tweezers held aloft. Climbing back onto the bed, Jane settles down crisscross and pulls a fluffy pillow into her lap, patting it in invitation, “Come on.”

Darcy practically throws herself at her lap, laying face up, hands resting on the brocade covering her belly, legs crossed at the ankles, “Okay, I’m ready, spill the beans.”

Leaning in and focusing on the delicate and complicated work before her (Darcy’s eyebrows were a _mess_ ) she started plucking, an act that both had found very therapeutic since their time in New Mexico.

“So, like I said, Thor and I usually spend a good part of our time together just, ah–“

“Reafirming?” Darcy supplies.

“Yeah, reaffirming our relationship and I guess basking in the glow of both of us still being alive and attracted to each other? Not a whole lot of deep, meaningful conversation goes on. I mean, we’re literally from two different worlds.”

Jane yanks out a particularly deep hair, and Darcy hisses in pain.

“And he’s literally a hundreds-of-years-old prince of an entire planet, with god-like powers, non-existent body fat, ridiculously thick eyelashes, great smile-“

“–amazing ass,” Darcy cuts in helpfully.

“ _Perfect_ ass,” Jane corrects her, “And I’m, you know, me–“

“Super awesome, all around bad beezy, Nobel Prize laureate, Queen astrophysicist, record holding Chicken Haus wing eater, eyebrow master extraordinaire?” Darcy cut in again, and the two smile at each other.

“Yeah, that. But I figured once we actually spent any real time together we’d sort of figure out that we were way too different. That it was all physical you know? Except that’s totally not what happened, Darcy! He’s been helping out with all of the research we’ve been doing since we got here a month ago. And not just carrying heavy equipment or holding stuff. He _actually_ understands what I’m talking about, like everything I’m talking about! I barely have to explain things to him and he gets it! We sleep together and _that’s,_ you know, amazing, and he gets my corny jokes and he thinks my snarky caffeine withdrawal is _cute,_ and _likes_ that I’m a clingy octopus when I sleep it’s-it’s like a dream come true, you know?”

Jane stops tweezing and bends even farther over so she and Darcy are practically eye to eye, “Darcy,” she says tone grave, “he’s perfect. Like, the definition of perfect.”

Darcy reaches up and gently pats Jane’s face, a soft smile stretching her plump lips, “Congratulations, Janey. Awwww, I think you’ve found your zing.”

Jane gave her a cheesy smile, “I know, right?”

Realizing the sap level in the room had reached critical, the two women snap themselves out of it, and get back to business. For a moment, the only sounds in the room is the almost silent clacking of the tweezers grasping at another hair.

“So,” Darcy asks casually, “True or False: when Thor visits, and you guys are doing ‘other stuff’ and he asks, ‘you want me to put the hammer down?’ that’s dirty talk for his dick right?”

_Yank!_

“ _OW_! Knew it.”

* * *

 

After Jane tamed Darcy’s eyebrows the two changed into some ridiculous night dresses that made Darcy feel straight out of the Victorian era, turned the lights out, leaving one dim light on in the bathroom, and crawled back into the crazy big bed, settling down for the night.

Laying wide awake, staring into the inky black darkness of the room, Darcy hears the sheets rustle a second before Jane’s narrow, dry fingers curl around hers.

“How are you really feeling?” Jane asks in a hushed tone.

Wriggling over onto her side Darcy stares at the dark blob across from her that is Jane’s head.

“Honestly? I can’t remember really anything after touching the ooze. So I guess I’m more scared of the idea of having some crazy old space person living inside me. Something that could possibly take control of me at any moment and hurt everyone, doesn’t sound like anybody I want walking around in my skin.”

“You know if we didn’t think you were okay we’d let you wake up, you know that right? The seal’s going to hold. But if anything happens, or whatever, you promise to tell me, okay? No trying to fix it by yourself.”

Squeezing Jane’s fingers, “Trust me, if I wake up and feel the sudden urge to eat souls and crawl up walls you’ll be the first to know.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm trying to cram the time spent in Asgard into as few chapters as I can. hang in there with me people. Sorry if Darcy seemed a bit OC. Heimdall, Sif, and the Warrior's 3 action coming up. We've not seen the last of our orange eyed roomie.
> 
> Darcy's Dress http://felastic.tumblr.com/post/10268643822/alexander-mcqueen 
> 
> -Tyler Durden is Brad Pitt's character on Fight Club  
> \- Thor's comic book cover is an astrophysicist, so I figured he'd know what's up, at least to a certain point.   
> \- The "zing" Darcy alludes to is from Hotel Transylvania.

**Author's Note:**

> So. this is going to be a thing. Yikes.  
> 1\. They DO still believe in witches in DRoC, but it's mostly kids and I haven't ready anything about them killing them, just abandoning them, so yeah, I fudged that.  
> 2\. Being a big girl in DRoC IS a thing. they like their women healthy.  
> 3\. I don't think they had Ebola tho


End file.
